Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
by MorningGloryBlue
Summary: Micheal and Sean converse while trapped together in a quiet, damp cell. Percy's former right hand is not quite what Sean expected him to be.


I have been thinking about this for like a month, wallowing in my writers block, and then BAM I write for three hours strait. You know when that last happened to me? Oh right, I don't remember. Anyways, enjoy.

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><p>Sean shifted uncomfortably.<p>

Cold, hard and dirty from blood, sweat and what smelled like feces, this piece of ground was not something he wanted to land on. Cool, sharp, shackles bound his wrists; the same for the man opposite him.

Micheal.

Having only known him in pictures aggravated Sean. Micheal used to be Percy's right hand. He was seduced by Nikita. He went rogue right before Percy's downfall and stole the master black box away with him. Little else was known to Sean.

Why he hadn't inquired further was a mistake he did not intend to make twice.

"Guess it's just you and me now."

Micheal simply looked at him before turning away again. In person, the older man looked much more rugged and at peace then he did in his photos. In photos his swamp green eyes were coiled like a snake with energy, and his short cropped hair was reminiscent of Sean's Navy days; The creases on his dress shirt could have sliced cold butter.

Feeling oddly awkward, Sean continued on.

"So how did you get here?"

"You first," he drawled.

Sean gritted his teeth for a moment before letting his curiosity get the better of him. He wanted, needed to know more about the man that helped to build Divisions' finest agents. Somehow he felt that the biggest clue to navigating Divisions nebulous maze of history was contained within the gaunt, shadowy man in front of him.

"Gogle had more back up teams then was anticipated."

Micheal's eyes flashed with a type of quiet intelligence. He looked, to Sean's wonder, masochistic .

"A textbook mistake if you ask me."

That wonder rapidly churned, swelled and broiled. The shackles on his hands sharply bit his writs, stinging the already tender skin.

"How would you know?" he all but growled.

Micheal remained patiently calm, but some light had gone out of his eyes. _Pity,_ Sean's instincts told him.

"You know nothing do you?"

For a moment Sean was reminded of a beautiful, blue eyed Russian heiress who had told him something very similar. Frustration and resentment washed over him in a gushing wave. Unable to take a total hit on his pride, Sean grunted in answer. Micheal's small, sorrowful smile offered Sean an unspoken condolence.

"Who exactly were you?"

Micheal looked thoughtfully at him, presumably piecing together his answer. But Sean was still surprised when he answered.

"In short, I was Percy's right hand, but that's not the answer you're looking for is it?"

"No."

"I trained recruits. I was in charge of most operation planning." He paused for a moment, and something like scalding fury flashed though his expression. "And I saw what Percy, what I," he amended, " Wanted to see."

"What about Nikita? She can't have slept with everyone to get their alliance."

Micheal gave a short bark of laughter.

"Amanda's probably told you she seduced me didn't she."

"Yes, yes she did."

"First off, you have to understand our relationship was unfathomably complicated during her stint in Division."

Sean waited a moment for Micheal to continue, but when he didn't further elaborate, Sean switched gears.

"What do you know about Amanda and Percy?"

"Well they are manipulating and conniving and devious in their own special way." Micheal gave a chilling smile, leading Sean to believe that he had been the target of their cruelty more then once.

"Yes, but how so?"

"Amanda's more out right," he said plainly. "You know she'll do something painful, the only question is when. But Percy," his eyes darkened, "Percy is more patient."

"You hate Percy don't you?"

"Yes."

"Division?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't think it's bad, per say. I just think it's been corrupted."

Corrupted doesn't sound quite accurate to Sean. Spoiled. Rotted. Infested. Those words fit better.

"Then why leave?"

"Before Division, I was a Navel Intelligence Officer. I was also married." He paused. "We had a little girl- Haley."

Sean's throat unconsciously began to constrict. By Micheal's deadened monotone, he could already guess what his stories end was.

"I'd gotten a tip from man by the name of Kasim Tirque. The bomb was in the suit case he gave me. In the hospital, Percy told me he could give me revenge and I took the offer."

Sean had little question as to how Nikita and Michael could have gotten involved. They both lead with their hearts more then their heads.

"So you left when you killed Kasim."

Sean had seen the photos given to his SEAL unit not more then several months earlier.

"Yes and no. You see the kicker, is that Kasim, Kasim used to be Division."

There was sick feeling in the pit of his stomach while watching Michael retell his story. He had felt this way before; it was the feeling when you realized that reality really was so much more horrific then any roomer or lie. Michael had been played, and he hadn't even realized it until it hit him in the face. After a bout of silence, Michael looked intently at Sean, strait in the eye, garnering his full attention before continuing on.

"Don't let yourself go through a Whiskey Tango Foxtrot the way I did. I-"

Michael was interrupted by a ear shattering BOOM, that rocked the pitiful hole of a room they had been thrown into. Upon looking up, Sean and Michael were both treated to ringing ears and the sight of Nikita and Alex in full battle regalia. Nikita hurdled a silvery key as hard as she could without looking ridiculous, and then after a moments hesitation, launched herself into Michael's arms.

Sean might have taken note that Division's resident rogue Bonnie and Clyde were reconciling from a lovers spat, but could not quite seem to tear his eyes away form Alex's blue orbs.

"You smell _awful_."

"Thank you," he said. For a moment her just stared at her. Later they would have to talk about Division, and Gogle and Semak and Amanda, but for now they would wait. Slowly he brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed it, admiring her smooth, flowery scented skin, never losing eye contact. When they finally dashed off to a waiting car, he could have sworn a blush still burned on her cheeks.

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><p>Final notes: In case you don't get my army reference, here's a hint: <strong>W<strong>hiskey **T**ango **F**oxtrot. [Notice the letters in bold?] No beta, so mistakes are all mine, and hint hint, I love reviews.

Thanks! -Blue


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